Springfield in the Spanish American War

But orders are orders and grumbling does not count against them. The details sent to dig graves were recalled, the equipments were donned again and in a short time we were once more "piking the pike." It was a gloomy march that evening, for the men were not very much inclined to conversation. On we went, now in columns of fours on a fairly decent road for Cuba, again in column of files through the bush and finally emerged onto another road. It was now dark, but we kept on until about 10 o'clock we came to a stone bridge over the San Juan river and the order to halt was given as the head of our regiment reached the bridge. Whether it was to be a mere halt or a bivouac no one seemed to know and no one cared. Hardly had the order to halt been given before the men had dropped by the roadside and, worn out by the toilsome march of the night before and the day's work, followed by the march to the bridge, were asleep, many of them without even taking off their heavy rolls. It was not an ideal place for slumber, either. Troops were continually passing by and every now and then a mule team would pass with a clatter but the sleepers slumbered on. Until after midnight we lay there, waiting for further orders. About one o'clock up came mule wagons and a pack train and soon after the men were awakened and told to "hurry up" and get rations. In a few moments the scene was changed. Huge fires were lighted and by their light the rations were given out, the delights of slumber proving to be less strong than the desire to eat and every man awakening to the knowledge that we would soon be on the move again. So it was. Hardly had we drawn rations and began to cook them before a battery of artillery moved hurriedly by us to the rear, many of us just having time to draw our legs out of the way of the wheels. Next came the 8th and 22d of our brigade and by 2 o'clock we too were on the march. Following the road over which we had come for a short distance, we soon left it and changing direction to the right, swung into a trail across country. Along this we marched for hours amid the darkness, through woods and chaparral and fields, once cultivated. We climbed hills and forded streams, all in the darkness, we brushed the morning mist from the trees and grass as we passed, and when the dawn came found ourselves still on the march, wet and tired and sleepy and bedraggled. Daylight made no difference. On we pressed, climbing a long hill, crowned with plantation buildings and from which we could look down upon a scene of beauty, the green-clad hills and mountains, their tops still wreathed in the morning mist and with no sign that aught but peace and happiness lay in the valleys between them. No time, however, this to enjoy scenery, no matter how picturesque. On we went, now down the hill and into a thick piece of woods, where we halted for a little time, then on again until we once more struck a road and reached El Pozo, where there had been considerable trouble the day before. Without waiting for us the quadrille had already opened. During our halt in the woods we could hear the artillery and the rifles and soon after we reached the El Pozo road and once more swinging to the right started for San Juan we realized that it might be a case of El Caney over again, for we encountered a steady stream of wounded men going or being carried to the rear. Down the road screeched the Mausers, but still high over our heads and in the distance we could hear the boom of the guns of the Spanish forts as they answered our light artillery. Still onward, with no band or field music to give us the cadenced step, a minute's halt now and then until we were compelled to leave the road to make way for a battery banging recklessly along to take another position. Then across a stream and over an open field in full view of the enemy's trenches on the right, passing the battleground of the day before and, under fire by this time, we swung once more to the right and took position on a hill on nearly the extreme right of the American line.

Rolls had been again stripped off and it was expected we would go into action, but the Spaniards had been given pretty nearly all the fight they wanted that day and there was little for the Second to do but to take its position and stay there. For hours the men lay on the hill crest under the blazing sun, without a chance at cooking a meal and hard pressed for water until details were sent back to the stream with canteens. Sharpshooters made this mission dangerous but no one refused to go.

It was not until early in the evening that the firing died down and it was safe to stand erect and walk about. The rolls and haversacks had been brought up and having been better guarded from prowling Cubans this time the contents of the haversacks were intact. By the time darkness came on the hillside on which we were camped for the day, tents had by this time been put up, was illuminated by the cooking fires and once more we enjoyed something that would pass for a meal. This over, sleep was the next necessity and we were not long in seeking our downy couches.

But we did not slumber long. Just about 10 o'clock there was a disturbance of the peace by the Spaniards, who apparently wished to spoil the good time we were having. Three or four big guns boomed out and then came the, by this time familiar sound of the Mausers. It needed no bell boy to awake us. In a jiffy we were up and scrambling for rifles and cartridge belts. Then came quickly spoken orders to "fall in" from the company commanders and the voices of the hurrying non-coms as they rounded up the men. All was black darkness and men stumbled over the grass and roots or slipped on the steep hillside. It was a scene of the utmost din and confusion, orders coming fast and loud, the men, still sleep-blinded, hustling about in confusion, the night's stillness broken by the crash of the Spanish rifles and the noise of exploding shells over our heads while on our right we heard the whip-like crack of the Krags answering the Mausers. "Hell's broken loose," avowed a B man as he groped about for his cartridge belt and indeed it seemed so.

Our battalion had its "shacks" on the top of the hill just below the crest while the other companies were scattered all along the hill but further below, so that the men of the Springfield companies were not long in falling in and making their way to the crest. But even then they were not quick enough to satisfy Major Van Horn, the choleric commander of the 22d, who appeared to have as bad a case of what was known to the boys as the "rattles" as any man ever had. Brandishing his sword, he ran about the hill, cursing the Second and ordering every man to the front, although it would have seemed he had enough to do to look after his own outfit. Col. Clark and his officers and the regiment were already on the top of the hill and awaiting events, but for some time Major Van Horn pranced and reared and vented his spleen upon the few men who happened to be a bit slow about getting up until finally his senses returned and he went where he belonged.

All in all our officers and men acted with coolness, considering the circumstances. It is not pleasant or conducive to coolness of thought or action to be suddenly pulled out of bed after a day of great exertion and hustle around in black darkness to the accompaniment of rifle bullets and bombshells and especially when it is uncertain whether the enemy is in one's front, flank or rear and go stumbling up a steep hill so that it is small wonder if at the outset a few were "rattled." But in a very short time the lines were formed on the top of the hill and the Second waited.

It was fortunate that none of our officers lost their heads and ordered their men to fire for the results could not fail to have been unfortunate all around. Just below us were three of our own regiments and had the Second fired the bullets would have hit our own men. It was a wonder that in the darkness and confusion nothing of the kind was done but officers and men kept their heads well and after the first confused rush up the hill all acted with commendable coolness.

But if we did not use our rifles the enemy did theirs and before the affair was over two men of the Second had been hit, one of them, Private Robert G. Kelly of G, mortally. A Mauser struck him in the left cheek, passing through and severing the lingual artery, lodged in the muscles of the right jaw. The other man hit was Private Peter N. White of A company, whose wound was not serious.

Poor Kelly was taken to his tent, where he lay in agony all night, the surgeons and hospital stewards doing all they could to relieve him. The next morning he was taken to the division hospital near Siboney where he lingered until July 7th, when he died. There was a story, which has never been denied, that his death was caused by internal hemorrhage caused by the imperfect manner in which his wound was cared for in the hospital.

The affair lasted about an hour and when the attacking force of Spaniards had been pretty well cut to pieces the enemy retired within his lines once more and the Second returned to its slumbers. At 3 A. M. there was some more firing but this was merely an affair of outposts and lasted but a few moments, just long enough to break up sleep for the second time that night.

Next day was Sunday, but it could hardly be called a peaceful one. From daybreak to early in the afternoon the sharpshooters of the enemy were active and a man had to walk humbly and keep well under cover unless he cared to make a target of himself. Many of these sharpshooters were inside our lines, not having had an opportunity to get to their own when their companions were driven back and hidden in thick foliaged trees and supplied with rations and water and plenty of ammunition they managed to make matters rather lively for us. Early in the day many squads were sent out to locate and capture these fellows but though many were located few were brought in as prisoners.

Time wore on slowly that Sunday. About noon orders were promulgated that an armistice had been declared and that firing on both sides was to cease at 12 o'clock. This was not bad news but evidently all our Spanish friends did not hear of it until later, for up to 2 o'clock there was an occasional bullet sent toward us from the outlying trenches. After that hour it was possible to walk about without having to dodge.

Early that morning we heard the distance-dulled boom of heavy guns from the direction of the mouth of the harbor. We knew that Sampson and Schley were outside waiting for Cervera and his ships but we had heard the guns of our fleet so often that we supposed it was simply another case of throwing a few shot at the Morro or the other Spanish batteries. Gradually the roar of the guns grew fainter and fainter until they died away altogether and it was supposed the attack of the fleet had again been fruitless. But soon after noon the "JoJo" department got at work again and rumors began to circulate that this time the fleet had been successful and had forced its way past the batteries and into the harbor.

It was not until soon after 4 o'clock that afternoon, however, that we learned what had happened. Then we saw Major Webb of Shafter's staff riding up to our brigade headquarters, which were only a few yards away from Col. Clark's "shack." The major reined up, said a few words to Gen. Ludlow and the latter hastily summoned the regimental commanders and announced that the Spanish fleet had tried to cut its way out of the harbor and had been met by Schley's ships and destroyed. It did not take long for the good news to spread and then such cheering as went up. Hats went up into the air and there was general jubilation. For once the "JoJo" department had been outdone. All along our line we could hear the cheering and then what few regimental bands we had broke loose and gave a jubilee concert which was highly appreciated. We had no religious services that day but the bands played, "There'll be a hot time in Old Town to-night."

Discipline was relaxed after the armistice had been declared and the men wandered along the lines, visiting other regiments and going over the battlegrounds of the two days previous. Many visited the outposts and took a look at the city and the forts. We could see the Spaniards taking life easy in their trenches and we wondered if they had heard what had happened to their fleet. Some of our boys, disgusted with their Springfields, went "grafting" Krags and picked up a good number, together with plenty of ammunition. Had the entire regiment been turned loose there is no question but what every man would have replaced his Springfield with a Krag-Jorgensen and as it was nearly 150 were obtained and a corresponding number of Springfields thrown away.

Our sleep was unbroken that night and we were ready to celebrate July 4th the next morning. Our celebration took the form of a little excursion, for soon after our frugal breakfast we were on the march again and began our celebrated swing to the right with the object of encircling the city. Our brigade led the advance as it had from the start and after four hours of slow progress we swung to the left and took our position on the now famous "Misery hill," an elevation in rear of the city and overlooking it. From the crest we could plainly see the Spanish batteries and barracks, while almost directly in front of us were the hospital buildings with half a dozen Red Cross flags flying over them. We passed our Fourth of July quietly enough. Not a fire cracker was fired, principally because we did not have any and there was not even a rifle crack to mark the day. Late in the afternoon we heard the guns of the fleet again as they hammered away at the harbor batteries for awhile. We pitched our "day tents" and took notice of the fact that our rations were getting low again. Next day we were put at work for the first time digging trenches and we enjoyed the job. For tools there were in the entire regiment only a few shovels and picks but the trenches had to be dug and the boys went at it with their mess knives, spoons and tin plates. It was fierce work under the blazing sun and the soil was hard to dig, but the work was done by reliefs and by night of the next day the trenches of our battalion were completed and good ones they were, too. They were dug on the crest of the hill and were deep enough with the earth parapet to give us protection from anything the enemy might send over at us. They were wide enough to enable the men to move about and the earth was cut away at the rear so as to make a sort of seat. More trouble was anticipated at any moment and ammunition in plenty was placed along the trenches. In fact, there was more ammunition than rations about all the time during the campaign.

Capron's battery, which was with us at El Caney, came up the 6th and took a position on the left of our line of trenches. The digging of intrenchments for this battery afforded us our first opportunity of seeing Cubans work and certainly they did work under Capt. Capron. Other regiments kept coming up and taking positions on our left and the circle about Santiago began to tighten.

Meanwhile we had leisure to lie about and figure up our losses. Malone of B, shot at El Caney, had died in the field hospital the evening of July 2d and his death came as a shock to his friends in that company. Richmond of G died in the same hospital early the preceding evening and that made five good men in the three Springfield companies slain by Spanish bullets. There were many missing faces from the ranks, too, and we kept hearing rumors that this or that man wounded at Caney had died in the hospital. Besides we knew some exaggerated stories about the losses of the Second had gone home and we knew the anxiety which our friends and relatives in Springfield must be feeling.

There were other losses aside from the bullets of the enemy. On July 6th Major Southmayd and Capt. McDonald left camp, the former going home on sick leave and the latter having injured himself badly in the spine. He was accompanied to the hospital by First Sergeant Burke, who remained with him until he sailed for the United States. In Capt. McDonald's absence First Lieut. W. L. Young took command of B company. Capt. John J. Leonard of G was made acting major of Major Southmayd's battalion and retained the command to the close of the campaign. The command of K company devolved upon First Lieut. Phillip C. Powers and First Lieut. W. C. Hayes took command of G company.

About this time many of our boys got "next" to a species of poison vine somewhat resembling the poison ivy of New England and with about the same results. The surgeons could find nothing to counteract the effects of the vine until a Cuban told them of another plant which being steeped was an effective antidote for the poison and a free use of this soon restored the swollen faces and hands of the sufferers to their normal condition.

"Misery hill" was a delightful place especially when the rations began to get shy as they did soon after our arrival. The visits of the pack train were few and far between and it was just as likely as not to bring ammunition instead of rations. Issues of one or two hardtack and a thin slice of bacon for a twenty-four hours ration were common, and some of the boys supplemented their menu with mangoes and "monkey plumes." Sergeant Lovely of G enjoyed the distinction of eating twenty-four mangoes in one day, much to the horror of the surgeons when they heard of it, but with no bad results to him.

It was while we were on "Misery hill" that "Dido" Hunt achieved added fame by his abilities as a butcher. Gen. Ludlow had a desire for beefsteak and had purchased a hungry looking cow from some Cubans, Private Hunt as regimental butcher, being detailed to kill the animal. It was just before dusk, one evening, when the cow was led forth to the slaughter and "Dido," armed with a revolver, got ready to act as executioner. He fired again and again at the cow, the animal after each shot, looking about in a surprised manner as if wondering what the racket was all about. Finally one of the bullets hit the cow somewhere, and with a bellow of pain and fright, she ran off and disappeared in the darkness, leaving Private Hunt and the man who had been holding the rope gazing at each other. Gen. Ludlow had no steak that evening and the fate of the cow was never learned although there were rumors that the animal had ended her career in the camp of one of the regular regiments, the men of which had a fresh meat supper that night.

A "commissary" had been established near Siboney by some enterprising sutlers, and the company officers were enabled to purchase some tea, oatmeal, etc., for their men. These were especially valuable, as several had succumbed to the climate and the toil and exposure of the campaign, and the hardtack and bacon were not the best kind of food for them. About this time, too, we were threatened with an outbreak of measles, but the cases were promptly isolated and the disease did not spread.

CHAPTER XIV

WE CONTINUE OUR EDUCATION IN THE ART OF WAR AND LEARN A FEW THINGS

OUR stay on "Misery hill" lasted just seven days and in that time we learned a few things, the art of trench digging without intrenching tools, standing out in our memory as one most important lesson. We learned how to sleep on a side hill without our bodies slipping entirely out from the shelter tents during our slumbers, this being accomplished by the simple means of driving a couple of pegs into the ground at the opening of the tent and placing a stick against them, our feet resting against the stick and preventing us going any further. We acquired the art of making cigarettes and of using anything at all in the paper line to roll them in. The inner pith of the royal palm came in handily for this purpose when our supply of cigarette paper gave out. We learned how to make one match light several pipes or cigarettes, for matches were scarce and therefore not to be wasted. We learned how to make the brook water passably cool in our canteens, by thoroughly soaking the canvass covering of the canteen and then suspending it from a tree or tent pole, the evaporation of the moisture of the cover slowly cooling the contents. At night the canteens were hung from the tent poles and in the morning the water was usually quite cool. Later on long branches of bamboo were used as water vessels and one trip to the brook usually sufficed for the day. In the building of "shacks" by which the regulars who had served in the west designated about everything in the way of a shelter from the sun or rain, we obtained lessons from our friends of the 8th and 22d. A couple of crotched sticks across which was laid a center pole formed the usual frame work of the structure and the roof and sides were composed of bushes or palm leaves. These were more airy than our tents and more comfortable except when it rained heavily.

Also, we learned to do without stockings, the fact being that the bulk of our hosiery was either worn out or thrown away, and we took a card from the regulars and discarded such things in the line thereof, greasing our feet with the luscious "sow belly." In laundry work we became expert. "Jim" Ryan's steam laundry had long since gone into voluntary bankruptcy, and every man was his own laundryman. Insect enemies began to appear, and obtained a lodgment in spite of strenuous efforts. Soap was scarce and there were times when water was not the easiest thing in the world to get. Our sleeping arrangements were primitive, the usual method of arranging them being to place the rubber blanket on the ground with the coated side down, on this place the woolen blanket and wrapping this about us, go to sleep. Our coats, or shoes, or anything else suitable, being utilized for pillows. While on "Misery hill" many of the boys cut grass and utilized it as mattresses, but we could not do this on our short bivouacs.

As to cooking, we were "stars." That is when there was anything to cook. On these occasions our culinary preparations were delightfully simple and even chafing-dish outfits would have to bow to our superior ingenuity. Our cooking apparatus required a small fire of wood, and the utensils were all carried in our haversacks. They were a combined frying pan and plate of tin, the former having a handle, a sharp pointed knife, fork and spoon. The basis of our menu was especially noticeable for its simplicity, the staples being bacon, hardtack, canned tomatoes and coffee. Sometimes we had sugar and more times we didn't. Occasionally we had a bit of salt or pepper and on these rare occasions there was joy, for then we were enabled to make the stuff labelled "canned roast beef" palatable enough so that it could be forced down our throats. At other times, Ugh! If the devil hasn't a special corner in the hot room of his Turkish bath reserved for those responsible for that "canned roast beef," he isn't "onto his job."

Even with such simple means we managed to vary the menus a bit at times. Our usual breakfast was bacon and hardtack and coffee. The bacon was usually without a bit of lean and after frying for a moment or two the pan was about half-filled with fat, leaving a shrivelled up and brittle piece of so-called bacon. But it was eaten just the same, our stomachs having been educated up to anything. Sometimes we fried our hardtack in the bacon grease and these with black coffee, sometimes without sugar, made up our breakfast. Thanks to a beneficent government we had coffee about all the time, if we had nothing else. It came to us in the berry, in paper packages, and our chief concern as to coffee was how to grind or pulverize it. Usually this was done by the simple but slow process of putting a few berries in our tin cups and pounding them with a stick or tent pole until they were broken enough to steep. Then the cup was filled with water and placed in the fire until the coffee boiled when the cup was taken out by means of a cleft stick or a bayonet and laid aside to cool sufficiently to drink. There was plenty of barbed wire everywhere and by means of the wire cutters rude grates were made on which the tin cup was placed. For dinner the bill of fare and the method of preparing it was about the same, likewise for supper. Sometimes, when we had canned tomatoes we made "sludge," a simple confection of tomatoes and broken hardtack, with at times a few "strings" of the corned beef thrown in to give it, not taste, but more body. This "beef" was also used to form the groundwork for an imitation stew, the only resemblance to stew being the name, for it was without onions or potatoes. Then we made "Santiago sludge cakes," composed of pulverized hardtack and water, the mixture being patted into cakes and fried in bacon grease. Sometimes a bit of sugar was sprinkled over them, and we deluded ourselves into the belief that we were eating something very fine. Another method of preparing this delicacy was to mix in some canned tomato. Mango stew we had at times, but not often, as sugar was scarce.